Apastron
by Hedgi
Summary: Apastron: Noun. The point of greatest separation between two stars. Preseason 1 AU. Kara's pod crashes into the desert, and Clark is not there to find it. The DEO collects it instead and locks her underground before she ever sees Earth's yellow sun. Three years Later, J'onn J'onzz weighs his oath and his life against the fate of a terrified child. (formerly "Antumbra")
1. Antumbra

**Antumbra**

 _Antumbra: noun. The area outside the darkest shadow of a solar eclipse._

* * *

It was sheer luck that the wide space, part desert, part prairie, sand and sagebrush and yellowed grass, was currently being used for tactical practice when, on a clear summer morning, someone sounded the alert. A bright streak arced across the sky, flaming as it crashed. The D.E.O. agents reached the small pod in minutes.

"What is it?" One asked, peering at the singed metal.  
"An opportunity," the squad leader replied. "Call base. We need to get this thing underground. Move it, people." He watched the pod, the way it lay still, a snake waiting to strike. Not if he could help it. He recognized a few of the symbols, soot streaked from entry into Earth's atmosphere. They would take no chances with the creature inside.

It wasn't until after the pod was secured in the nearest D.E.O. base, the occupant sedated and locked away without ever seeing sunlight, that news came that a second ship had crashed, this one larger.

Hank Henshaw glared at the man who'd brought the news. His work was never done, but it would be, eventually. It might take years, but Earth would be safe from alien influence under his watch, someday. Until then, he had calls to make, recruits to replace, and assets to acquire.  
This new Kryptonian had brought disaster, but perhaps it would be useful as well.

* * *

 _(Roughly three years later)_

J'onn J'onzz had worn this form–this face– for months now, but it still felt strange, foreign. Like he was stretched too thin and squeezed too tight, like one of the large earth snakes from the forest he'd hidden in, growing against dying scales. He wanted to shed it, but he didn't dare. He'd run out of escape routes. Even in solitude, he could not risk being J'onn, not anymore. Hank Henshaw. That was his name, who he had to be. The problem was, Hank was only skin deep. Even with all the time he'd had trying to train his thoughts, his gate, to turn skittish fear into anger, he had to remain conscious of the role he played. No part of who he had been could leak out, green tint under dark skin.

But he wanted to, especially here, in this work space underground that seemed to sing to his deepest instincts to run, to fly. He knew without doubt that there were no allies here, not any with power. If his deception, his disguise was ever revealed, even the few analysts that seemed like they had a grasp of ethics wouldn't dare side with him, and the soldiers never would. The captives, the alien criminals kept under lock and key, would be no better, and J'onn knew that even to save his own life he would never release the murderers from their cells. One of the Faceless Hunters, other creatures from planets far beyond the furthest reaches of Martian travel and creatures closer in, nightmare monsters. He was no fool. He knew he was not the only refugee who had come to this place, but those in the cellblocks were not mere travelers who had lost their homes. These were aliens who had taken the fresh start they might have had and thrown it aside for greed, for violence. He would never allow himself to make that same choice, and he could not risk the lives of innocents by using them as cover. He would just have to be careful. He could not afford the cost of being discovered.

It was exhausting. Being Hank Henshaw was so much more than hiding under human skin, behind human eyes and trying not to flinch at open flames. But he learned. He read the files on the computers, feigning memory lapses courtesy of that last failed mission to bring in the Manhunter. He learned what he could, walking the same path into the facility that Hank had, heavy boots and chin up, as if he feared nothing. This was his fortress, his. That meant, to stay safe, he had to act like it.

He had to honor the sacrifice of the man who had died to save him. Jeremiah. He had been an help to another Alien, another peaceful one. Superman, the press called him, but J'onn had not yet met him–the same alien that had been the cause, he learned, for the D.E.O's founding. Peaceful or not, hero or not, J'onn was unsure he wanted to get involved–it was far too risky. And his life was no longer his own. He had promised Jeremiah that he would protect his daughter, and an oath sworn as a life-debt to a dying man was not something that could be taken lightly. In a few years, the girl would be grown, and if she were as smart as her father had claimed, that one night in the jungle, there might be a place for her here.

This would have to be the goal. To slowly fill the ranks of the DEO with those like Alex Danvers, like her late father, perhaps even like he himself–people who wanted to help, not to seek out and destroy. It would take years, but then, J'onn had time, assuming he mastered the part. He was certain he could.

A few weeks after being fully cleared, fully recognized in this second identity, this false name, J'onn's careful planning almost fell apart.

He had taken to exploring, having little else to occupy non-work hours. He needed to make muscle memory know each corner of the DEO's underground base, erase any doubt that he was not fit to lead the organization. He read files, histories that only went back a decade or so, and walked the hallways in his heavy boots that reminded him he had to be human. That flying was never again an option.

He wasn't certain why he had not been aware of one of the cell blocks on the lowest level, deep in the earth until then, but he found it almost by happenstance, drawn to the thin red light. As he approached, wondering what creature was so dangerous that it would be kept here, what crime it might have committed, he saw a small figure trembling in the corner.

He may have worn a human skin, too close and itching to be shrugged off. He may have pressed down the use of his powers, for fear of become dependent upon them. But he did not need anything beyond human eyes to see the small form flinch, to hear whimpering ( _Ieiu, Ieiu_ ) in a language he was certain he had heard before, but could not place.

He left just as quickly, his stomach acids protesting what his mind translated. It was a child. The prisoner in the cell was a tiny child, pale and thin. He had not needed to read her mind or understand her words to know she had been terrified. _K'hym. T'ania_. The memory of the last time he had seen his daughters seared like flame in his mind. Was some parent out there wondering for the fate of their own child? Had his children huddled, alone and terrified in a dark prison cell?

He wanted to vomit, and so he ran, slowing only to a halt when he reached the upper levels and the risk of being seen.

What crime could that pathetic creature have committed to be left in almost total darkness? What if she was like himself? Not one who had chosen this planet in malice but in desperation, alone and frightened, with no Jeremiah Danvers to chose her life over his?

"Sir? Director Henshaw?" a young woman asked, voice clipped. An intern, of sorts, the lowest ranking of the already highly ranked officials and agents permitted to work here. "Are you well?"

"I am fine," he told her firmly. "I need to check our records for any discrepancies. There's another audit coming up."

She winced. That meant budget reviews, an endless stream of meetings if not everything was perfectly documented. "Of course, Sir. Understood."

He waited until she had scurried off, no doubt to let everyone know to be careful with their paperwork, before sinking into his chair and digging deeper into the files.  
And there it was, plain text. **Project KR Eclipse.**

A Kryptonian pod had been found, only miles from the crash site of Fort Rozz, with a lone occupant. Unlike the being that had been labeled the 'Man of Steel' by Metropolis's reporters, this one did not seem to possess that same invulnerability, or strength. Notes from Director Henshaw, the real Director, whose face J'onn now twisted in revulsion, filled the screen, conclusions drawn from what files had be salvaged from Fort Rozz and from tests they had run on the child. Blood tests, brain scans, pages of lists that dated even during the time Henshaw had been dead.  
Nowhere did it list a crime committed, and the mugshot showed only a pale face, dirt marks on her cheeks, dishwater hair mussed and tangled.  
J'onn closed the files, closed his eyes, and cursed inwardly. He could not compromise his cover. He could not show kindness or weakness (or the weakness that was kindness in the eyes of humans) without risking being discovered. Then what would be his fate, to die on a steel lab table or languish for centuries in a dark cell until he forgot even his own name? His oath–.

He had abandoned platitudes like "everything happens for a reason" when the White Martians had torn his beloved from his arms. Now he wondered, if this was the reason he had been spared the fate of his people, if this was why the old Director himself had been the one to confront him, if this was why he still breathed when Jeremiah did not. Was this how he was meant to pay forward his debt, a life for a life, one refugee to another?

He had lived more than 300 years, his family was dead.

He took his coat from the hook, and started for the exit.

* * *

J'onn knocked on the door of the large house, feeling awkward standing on the white-painted porch without his uniform on. As much as he loathed wearing it, being Hank Henshaw with all his weapons, it was a measure of safety. Security. But he stood on the porch in civilian khakis and waited for the door to open.

The blonde woman, whiter than she had seemed in the photograph on file, looked at him, the exasperated smile folding into a tight frown, fear and anger lining the creases around her eyes. She paused, as if trying to find words. He spoke first.

"Mrs. Danvers. May I come in?"

"Doctor," she corrected as if out of habit, and then realized. "You–No. Get out, get away, leave us alone."

"Dr. Danvers," he said, formally, no emotion slipping through to the mask he wore. "It's urgent. I need to speak with you."

She shook her head, moving to close the door. He stopped her, but only because desperation demanded it.

"It's about your husband." It was, in a roundabout kind of way.  
" You got my husband killed." She did not stumble or stutter over the word. J'onn nodded, solemn.  
"This is not a conversation for your porch and neighbors to hear, Dr. Danvers," he said, though there were no neighbors near enough to hear or watch the confrontation.

She opened the door wider. "Come in, then."

As soon as the door was closed, J'onn closed his eyes. He could not back out now. He needed this woman.

"Your husband was not the only expert on Kryptonians, was he, Dr. Danvers?"  
She stepped back, shaking her head. "No. No, I will not work for you and your sick organization. I won't. You took my husband, isn't that enough for you? That you took him from me, from us, that I had to lie to our daughter, about why he never came home? Now you want me, too? Jeremiah gave you his research, and I don't know any more than that. Now, get out, Henshaw."

"My name is not Hank Henshaw," J'onn said softly. Even if he managed to free the little Kryptonian, he could not give her a home, not when it was so certain he would be trading his own life for hers. She would need someone trustworthy, someone safe. Someone who would protect her. "Your husband died to save my life. I have to pay that forward, and I need your help. Please."

He held out a photograph, the one he'd risked printing out.  
Eliza Danvers took the picture, looking at the girl's tear and dirt smudged face, then up at J'onn. Slowly, she nodded.  
"What do you want me to do?"

* * *

J'onn had done his best to get most of the agents out of the underground facility, dispatching teams as far as Ojai on carefully laid trails after more Fort Rozz escapees–perhaps finding some of them would delay the discovery of a betrayal and an empty cell. More agents he had temporarily assigned to the other bases, or loaned to the military to assist on various projects (and spy on the new General, Sam something or other.) Only a skeleton crew remained, and now, in the hour or so before sunrise, was the best chance there would be. He had done what he could. The rest would be up to H'ronmeer, or Rao, or fate.

The cell door opened under his hand, and the disheveled figure flinched, scrambling backward until she hit the wall, arms raised in defense. In the dim light and shadow, J'onn's vision faltered for a heartbeat, the Kryptonian girl's face replaced by T'ania's before reverting back to her own, bone white, with wide, dark eyes.

" _Zha_ ," she whispered, " _Khapodh zha sem, eiahmodh sem rraop_."  
He didn't understand, exactly, but he didn't need to to see how terrified she was.

He crouched and held out a hand. " _Voi_ ," he said, the word Eliza had told him meant "safe."  
She startled, looking at him, trembling. The fleeting glimpse he had had of her, the picture, had not been much, J'onn realized. She had not just been locked in, but chained, like an animal. Like a monster. Her bare feet looked cracked and bruised, but it may have only been the poor lighting. She looked to be perhaps fourteen, if that, thin and pale. Her eyes were haunted, but she kept her head up. She was brave. A fighter. She would have had to be, to survive here, for so long, but she was tired, leaning against that far wall for support as much as for protection.

She chewed her chapped lip, then whispered, " _Voikirium_?"

" _Voikir–voikirium_ ," J'onn hoped it meant the same as 'Voi,' that she would trust him. They did not have much time. He stepped into the cell, and she did not flinch as he used his master key to undo the manacle at her ankle, watching him silently. He gestured to the door, holding out his hand again.  
She took a breath, and then his hand, her skin icy against his. He led the way up the least used stairs, the narrowest hallways, grateful for his determination to know every inch of the base. It may not do him much good after today, but that would be alright.  
The girl stopped short as they reached the last doorway before the final stretch of hall that lead out. She looked up at him, and again he could have sworn that the fluorescent lighting gave her his daughter's features. He opened the door, and walked quickly, tugging her along. Eliza Danvers would be waiting just beyond the perimeter. He only had to make sure that the child reached her.

No one spotted them as he opened the doors, predawn light spilling in. The girl gave a tiny squeak of fear, but he squeezed her hand. The air was dry, smelling of rabbitbrush and sage, as familiar to J'onn as the scents of the rainforest in Peru had been. But she stopped, breathing in as though her lungs would never be filled, staring up at the pearly sky, her mouth open, her ragged clothing shifting in the faint breeze. Tears glimmered on her cheeks, but she did not move to rub them away, only let them fall.

Over the lip of the mountain in the west, the sun started to rise, golden and warm.

~FIN~

* * *

The following are loose Kryptionese translations, I did my best with a limited dictionary and grammar rules I tried to learn in like 30 minutes so accuracy may not be perfect but I tried.

Ieiu - Mother

Zha - No

Khapodh zha sem- I do not want (literally 'want no I')

eiahmodh sem rraop - I beg you (literally 'beg you I')

Voi- safe, secure, all right

Voikirium - deliverer, rescuer, savior

Hope you enjoyed, please comment!


	2. Asterism

You asked for more! Have more!

* * *

 _Asterism: noun._ _A prominent pattern of stars, smaller than a constellation._

Alex abandoned her history homework more than willingly when her mother had called her out onto the porch to look at stars. She'd grown up staying out late whenever the sky was clear enough, and her classmates in grade school had always loved her birthday parties, backyard campouts where Jeremiah would show them all how to find different patterns in the stars. In the three years since his death, Alex and her mother had only gone stargazing once or twice. Some of the magic was lost, and it was as the constellations were incomplete without him to point out where the anchor stars were. Still, these were cherished memories, and to refuse would hurt them both, so Alex went. She didn't want to finish her paper on stone Olmec heads anyway.

Her mother offered her a mug of hot chocolate, sitting with the telescope pointed at the sky. Alex sat, looking up unaided, picking out Orion, Aldebaran, the Pleiades. She'd only ever been able to find six of them, even when they shone brightest, even with her father's hand guiding the telescope. Alex took a deep breath and a sip of the hot chocolate, marshmallow foam sticking to her upper lip.

After a long moment, her mother spoke.

"Alex, you remember the stories your father and I told you about Superman?"

Alex nodded, not looking away from the Seven Sisters. She remembered. Her parents had told her the stories starting when she was little, about brave, clever scientists who helped the man of Steel discover his powers, about where he'd come from. She'd known it was just to help a scared little girl, to show that everyone could be a hero and that even heroes got scared or sad or lost. Just stories to protect her from the monsters under the bed. That kind of monster meant nothing to her, now, not when car crashes and work accidents were the reality.

"Alexandra," her mother hesitated, and Alex finally tore her gaze back to earth, looking at her mother in the dim light the upper windows let out onto the porch. Her voice sounded like it had when she'd come in one morning to tell her that Dad was gone.

"Mom?" Alex asked, jumping from bad conclusion to worse scenario.

"They weren't just stories. Oh, your dad embellished them, gave them little morals and things. but...Your father and I really did help him. Superman."

Alex blinked. It wasn't that hard to take in, not really, not in comparison to the way her mother's voice was tight and trembling.

Eliza Danvers sighed. " There's a little girl. Like him, but...she's maybe your age. A...a man who worked with your dad, a friend of your dad, came to me for help. While you were at school. This girl, she's been very badly hurt, and your dad's friend, John, he can't help her by himself."

"What are you talking about?" Alex asked, shaking her head. It _sounded_ like her mom was a _spy_ or something, but that was ridiculous.

"Alex, I don't mean she needs help understanding her powers. This girl has been...tortured. For at least two years. John needs me-needs us-to look after her. He's going to break her out, but he can't protect her once he does. I know it's unfair to put you in this position, Alexandra, but…"

"You're _leaving?"_ Alex gasped, as if she'd just been suckerpunched.

" _No,"_ Eliza shook her head swiftly. "No. I'm bringing her here. Tomorrow. I can arrange for you to stay with someone if it's too much, this would be a big secret to keep."

Alex hugged her mother tightly, shoulders shaking in relief. "But you'll come back, right?"

"Of course. I promise," Eliza smoothed her daughter's hair, hugging back just as fiercely. "I promise. I'm leaving early. I should be home midmorning, with your new sister. She's going to need a lot of help, so I'm going to be counting on you. John says she doesn't seem to know much English, and…"

"She's been hurt," Alex nodded against her mother's shoulder. "I'll help you keep her safe. I won't tell anyone."

"That's my girl."

They stayed out on the porch, not really looking at the stars or speaking, just sitting together, until the hot chocolate ran out, and Alex drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Eliza hovered over her sleeping daughter, unsure if she should wake her, before deciding too. If something went wrong, it wouldn't be fair to leave without a goodbye. _Don't think like that,_ she scolded herself.

"Alexandra?" she put a hand on Alex's blanket covered shoulder. "I have to leave."

"Can I come?" Alex asked, sitting up. Eliza shook her head.

"No, sweetie. It's dangerous. I have to know you're safe...and that you'll do something for me if I don't come home soon."

"Come after you?" Alex asked. Eliza spared a glance for the collection of science fiction and fantasy novels on the bookshelf. No doubt they were in part to blame.

"No. Alex, promise me you won't. You aren't even legal to drive."

"Promise," Alex said, and Eliza was sure the thickness in her voice had nothing to do with sleepiness.

"If I don't come back by noon, I need you to call the Daily Planet in Metropolis. Ask for Clark Kent, and tell him who you are and that I told you to call. He can contact Superman."

"Why not just get him to go after the girl, then? Why do you have to risk…" Alex frowned.

Eliza shook her head. "The people who have her have things that can hurt superman, and he's not very sneaky. It's better to try to sneak her out, first. I'll be back in a few hours. Do you think you could try to get the guest room ready? I started yesterday, but…"

"I will," Alex said, sliding out of bed and yawning. "Be careful."

"Go back to sleep, Alex. It's going to be a while before I get home. I already emailed your teachers to say you have the flu."

Eliza knew from the relieved smile on Alex's face that she was glad for the excuse to skip school, that she'd already been planning on it. She kissed her daughter's forehead. "I love you, Alex."

"I love you too, Mom."

* * *

It was a long drive to the place J'onn had told her about, but it went quickly enough. No one but truckers took to these roads so early. Eliza worried the entire way. What if J'onn got caught before he could get the little girl out? What if they were caught on the way to the rendezvous? She parked her car, still worried. There were so many ways this could go wrong.

Slowly, the sun edged over the horizon. The hazy desert sky turned from grey to a soft, pearly pink. Antsy, she abandoned her seat to stand outside, pacing in the soft sandy soil, then got back in. She was waiting outside the car again, feeling the thin warmth of dawn, when she saw movement. Panic saturated her brain until she picked out what was coming closer: not soldiers, but J'onn, half carrying a smaller figure that almost seemed to glow in the sunlight. Eliza gasped and moved forward. Her eyes adjusted, and she realized that the glow came from the dawn, reflecting on the child's pale skin and dim white garment, which was somewhat tattered.

J'onn held the girl's hand in one of his own, keeping the other arm around her. When the girl saw her, she gave a small jolt, startled, but her solemn features gave away no fear. Her cheeks were dirty, with clean marks down them where she'd cried. Eliza held out her arms, overcome.

" _Ehrosh bem_ ," Eliza had never mastered the language young Clark had told her and Jeremiah about, but she had learned a few of the phrases, and hoped that she said them correctly. It was a greeting, she thought. The child's eyes met hers, sharp with recognition, and Eliza thought she saw a hint of a smile of relief on the girl's face.

J'onn had been right. She looked younger than Alex. Fourteen at the most. Eliza would put her closer to twelve, but malnourishment might have done that.

" _Ehrosh bem_ ," the girl said, her voice high. She looked around, suddenly wild, like a bird. Eliza could only pick out one sentence from the babble. "I Ieiu khapodh sem."

"What did she say?" J'onn asked, when Eliza put together the meaning, and her face fell. She reached out her arms again, and this time the girl fell into them.

"She wants her mother," Eliza said, voice soft. "I'm sorry, little one. I'm sorry. There, there. It's all right. _Voi nahn rrip_. Dammit, I don't know enough- _khapodh vokai rrip -_ no, _vokai rrip khapodh._ You are safe. I'll help you." She rubbed the girl's back, and could feel her bones.

When she moved back, she pointed at her car. " I don't know if you understand, but we have to go, now. Away from this place. _Awuhkh."_

The girl looked at the car, suspicion written on her face, then at J'onn. He shook his head, and pointed to Eliza. "I have to make sure no one finds you," he said, moving his hands awkwardly. "Eliza, er, _Voikirium."_

The girl nodded, and allowed Eliza to usher her into the car, though she squeaked when Eliza showed her the buckle. Eliza winced-she should have guessed the poor child had not had good experiences with restraints. Still, she did the buckle up, keeping a slim hand over the latch. Eliza allowed it, hitting the gas. The noise startled the young refugee, and another thought occurred to Eliza. She called herself ten kinds of fool. Sunlight, they were out in sunlight, and had nothing to block her powers. If they were anything like Superman's… Well, they'd find a way to help soon. They just had to make it home.

Eliza motioned to herself with one hand. "Eliza Danvers," she said, then pointed to her passenger and tilted her head, hoping the question came across. It did.

"Kara Zor-el," she said, her voice clearer now that she'd drained on of Eliza's spare water bottles.

"Kara," Eliza repeated, and smiled, as they drove west, the sun rising higher and higher behind them.

* * *

Alex had not slept much. She'd tried, but worry kept her awake like an upset stomach, and she gave up soon after her mother left. The guest room, just next door to her own, was clean, but Alex set to work all the same.

She took her own favorite blanket, one that didn't match her bedspread but was soft, and laid it across the bed, then made sure the sheets were clean. They were, it had been ages since anyone had stayed in here, but her mom had gotten the dust. Satisfied, Alex went back to her bedroom, and gathered things she wouldn't miss too much. Carefully, she arranged the stuffed teddy bear atop the pillows, and set to organizing a few of her books on the bedside table. She wasn't sure if the girl would be able to read, English anyway, so she chose carefully. A Calvin and Hobbes book went next to a few old picture books, a few about ponies, one a Magic School Bus book, and _The Very Lonely Firefly_ , all dug out of boxes in her closet. Art supplies went on the desk, a box of crayons Alex had decided she was "too old" for, and a couple half used coloring books. Then she attacked her closet. She'd just had a growth spurt, so anything that didn't fit went in a pile, and then into the guest room drawers, except for a few of her favorite shirts. She was keeping those. Mostly she took out summer dresses and the too-soft cardigans that were always on sale at target. Alex hated them, but always got at least one for her birthday. Her new sister was more than welcome to them.

When she finished making the room as welcoming as possible, she slipped into her mother's room, and lay on the bed, dozing a little, feeling somehow safer.

She woke again after only an hour or two, and went downstairs to the kitchen. It was probably too early to start making breakfast, wasn't it? Her mom hadn't said where she was going, just that it was a few hours, but… it had been a few hours. The sun was rising. _Mom said, after dawn...I should get started._

What did refugees from other planets, with superpowers, even eat? Probably not plain old mush. Or maybe they did. Alex had read a book where aliens had eaten the main character's science project, a paper volcano, or something. She made the oatmeal first, since it was easiest, leaving it in the pot so it would stay warm, and started on pancakes, adding in chocolate chips. A half package of sausages came next, while water boiled for coffee and hot chocolate and tea. Alex eyed her homework, still undone, and moved it off the table. Then, all there was to do was wait.

She did not have to wait long. She heard the car, and ran out even before it stopped.

"Mom!"

"Alex," her mom hugged her, then turned. "This is Kara."

Alex looked at Kara. She was short, and thin, her feet bare and her hands chapped. Alex reached over to her, and Kara flinched before allowing Alex to take her hand. Alex almost let go out of reflex-how could someone with superpowers be scared of _her?-_ but smiled instead.

"Hi, Kara. I'm Alexandra. Alex."

"Hi, Alex," Kara responded, mimicking Alex's tone. Alex tugged her toward the house.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.  
Eliza looked at Kara, and stumbled over the question's translation.

To her surprise, Kara answered Alex. "Yes. Hungry am I."She furrowed her brow. "I am hungry," she corrected herself.

"You can understand?" Eliza asked, opening the front door. Kara nodded.

"A little," Kara confirmed, her eyes going wide when she smelled the air.

"I made breakfast," Alex said, mixing a water into a mug full of cocoa powder and sugar and handing it off. "For you."

Kara took the mug, one of Eliza's favorites, dark ceramic that changed patterns when it was hot so that constellations appeared on the sides, reverently with both hands. As Eliza filled plates, and Alex handed her exhausted mom her own mug of dark roast coffee, Kara drank. This time, despite her still dirty face, her smile was wide and bright.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it. I'm having fun with this AU. Please comment.


	3. Aureole

_Aureole: Noun. A Corona, Any luminous or colored ring that encircles something._

Kara had been nervous when Alex had taken her hand again and guided her to a stairway-up, not down, which was good-and to a room. It wasn't small and dark and cold like her cell had been. There was a window that let in warm, yellow sunlight, and a big bed that reminded her of her bed back home. Home.

Home was gone. Her mother, her father. Kal-El, too, she thought. He wouldn't have had her to look after him. What if the bad people had taken him, too? Maybe her rescuers would help her save her baby cousin, if he was even still alive. She couldn't ask yet. Only the older woman, Eliza, seemed to understand Kryptonian-and how had she learned it? Who had taught her?-and Kara's Human was not very good. She'd picked up some words, but the order was all wrong, and she couldn't make sense of it all. Not yet. She'd always been good at languages, but it was easier when people were trying to help you learn. Not talking too fast over you like you were furniture, just an object, just an experiment-Kara squeezed her eyes closed against the flash of white and the memory and tried to focus on soft rug under her feet, the sounds around her.

Alex, who seemed to be a little older than her, chattered, showing her the drawers full of bright, soft clothes, and the books on the little table, and the washroom across the hall. The tile reminded Kara sharply of one of the rooms she had been Before, but instead of being too bright-white the floor tiles had a cheerful nonsense pattern. The room smelled of clean, soapy and flowery smells and a hint of mold, not harsh bleach and metal. Alex had gently patted her shoulder, worried, and told Kara to rest, using hand signals as much as language.

Kara had waited for the door to lock, after Alex left, but it never did. The window was open, too, with no bars across it, just a fine mesh. She could hear the cry of birds, and another noise, rhythmic, like the roar of blood in her ears. She didn't know what it was, and couldn't see, even with her face pressed against the mesh at the window. It had always been so cold, underground, and the hot sun felt good on her face, even if it hurt her eyes.

She pressed too hard, and squeaked as the mesh snapped, the frame bending. Leaping backwards, she crashed into the bed, moving too far, too fast. It was like her mother had said. The sunlight here was different. A small whimper escaped the back of her throat. She had broken it, she had broken it and they would be so mad. Would they be mad enough they'd give her back to the Bad People and the dark room with the red light? She hoped not. She'd run, first. She'd never, ever go back There. She didn't know how to survive on her own here, but-she'd figure it out. Her father had always said she could figure anything out. They'd expected her to be ok, when they sent her. So she'd figure it out.

"Kara?" the woman's voice startled her. No one had said her name in so _long._ Kara focused hard, trying to understand what Eliza said, coming closer. "Are you alright? What-oh, the window." She left the doorway, approaching the side of the bed where Kara had landed, and reached out. Kara threw her arms up to protect herself and braced. No blow ever came. There was a feather light touch on her shoulder, and when she peeked, Eliza was crouched beside her.

"It's alright, Kara," she said, first in English then in clumsy Kryptonian. "I won't ever hurt you."

Kara wanted so badly to believe that.

"It's ok, about the window." Eliza continued, or Kara was pretty sure that was what she said. She stayed perfectly still, almost too scared to breathe. Eliza stayed where she was, not too close, still speaking soothingly. "It's ok."

They stayed there, on the floor, for a long time. Kara wasn't sure how long, exactly. She hadn't been good at judging time since Before. Before the Phantom Zone, and the dark room. But outside, the golden-yellow sun swung around and sank lower and lower in the direction of the rushing-roaring noise Kara still couldn't quite identify. She rubbed at her ears, all the sounds hurt, and her head ached.

"Oh," Eliza said. "Hurt? Your ears? The noise? Clark said…"

"Yes," Kara responded, trying to get up the courage to ask how she had known. "You know how? Clark is who?" she flushed. She knew that wasn't right, the words were supposed to be backwards in this language. Eliza seemed to understand.

"Clark is like you," she said, gesturing. "From Krypton."

The name of Kara's planet rang in her abused ears, and she couldn't help but perk up at the sound. The Bad People had known it, too, but they had not spoken her language, even badly. And none of them had claimed to know anyone from-none of them had ever even spoken to her-

"Like me?" she whispered, clenching her hands tightly. Clark? Clark wasn't a name she knew, not that she knew everyone, but...it wasn't the name of any ambassadors, and only a few had been away at the time of the disaster. There had only been two pods. Hers, and-"Kal El?" she asked, confused. He might have been-five? Six? Certainly not much older than that.

"Yes," Eliza brightened. "He's coming tomorrow."

Kara frowned. She stood, putting too much weight on the bedframe and cracking it. She gave a little cry, scrambling backwards, but Eliza didn't move to hit her, or even yell.

"It's alright, it's alright," Eliza sat on the bed, testing it. "See? All fine. Clark-Kal El, had...problems with his powers, too. He can help you. We can help you."

Kara couldn't help it. She started to cry, scared and tired, with her ears hurting and so much changing. She wanted her mother, and her father, and baby Kal-El, and her aunts, she wanted to go home.

Soft arms wrapped around her, pulling her to sit on the bed, holding her head so her ear was over a heartbeat. The last time anyone had hugged her had been her mother. In the bad place, when she'd cried, no one had ever done anything, except maybe yell. "There, there," Eliza said, holding her gently. "It's alright. It's alright. It's ok, you can cry. It's ok."

Kara leaned into the hug, the warmth and safety of it almost as good as the sunshine was, spreading through the window. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Eliza was quiet as well, and they sat together, watching the sunlight shift over the bedroom floor.

Someone knocked on the door, but it did not startle Kara, she had heard the footsteps, and she could smell the food the visitor carried-or she hoped it was food. It smelled so good, and totally unfamiliar. Alex opened the door.

"Everyone ok?" she asked. It took a moment before Kara realized she was asking her. She nodded.

Alex beamed at Kara, and at her mother, and moved to join them on the bed, carrying a large wood tray with plates balanced on it.

Eliza stopped her. "I'm not sure the bed can handle all three of us." She pointed to the crack, sliding off the bed and sitting on the floor. After a moment, Kara joined her, and Alex completed the circle.

"We didn't have much," Alex said as she set the tray in the middle. "Just some frozen stuff. Do you like pizza? Or potstickers?"

Kara looked at Alex, titling her head a little. "What are..those food things?" she said at last, proud of herself for finding words she knew.

"Try them both," Alex grinned. Kara rubbed her face on the soft blanket on the bed, and grinned back, then reached for the plate of little dumplings.

* * *

There will likely be one more part-with Clark and J'onn in it-to round this story out. hope you like it!


	4. Aphelion (interlude)

Aphelion: noun.  
The point in the orbit of a planet or other celestial body where it is farthest from the Sun.

(set before J'onn's discovery of Kara)

* * *

Sometimes, Kara could tell when she dreamed. She'd find herself in her old bedroom, the warm red sunlight of home shining through windows. Baby Kal would be there, her aunts, her things. Familiar faces and colors, sharper than memory. Sometimes, the dreams were nonsense, silly things she couldn't remember except for a feeling of comfort. She liked those dreams, craved them, though they were rare, and she always woke up.

Sometimes, she wasn't sure if it was reality or sleeping-terror, the darkness of the cell, the masked figures with their weapons and tools and hands that held her tight. Dream and wakefulness blurred together, painful, and she wasn't sure which she wanted them all to be. It was hard to keep track, after so long in this dark, cold place, what she remembered, and what she only thought she did. How long had it been since she'd been pulled from her pod? Too long. Long enough.

She thought she was awake, she could feel the cold aching in her bones, and heard the sound of footsteps, breathing. She dared to look up. They had always hit her for that, but she was of the House of El, even as a captive, and she would not show weakness on her family's behalf by submitting. All she had now was her name, and her family's memory, and she would not let these monsters break her. Her breath left her as she recognized the face in the mockery of her fallen-home's lighting.

"Mother?" Her heart swelled. Mother must have found another pod, after all, must have come to rescue her, to save baby Kal-el, to take them to the safe place she had promised would be waiting. She tried to surge forward, stumbling, her bare feet cold and numb. They had made her run, yesterday, for hours, and she still ached. The chains stopped her. "Mother!"

But her mother just stood there. Watching. Kara didn't understand. "Please, help."

Allura opened her mouth, but the words were a babble, the same language that the Bad People used, too fast for Kara to understand. She turned away.

"Mother! Please don't leave me again, mother, I'll be good, please." Her voice broke, her legs failing her.

Her eyes opened to the same half-darkness, empty now. A dream, but there was still salt on her skin, tears slipping down her cheeks. She curled tight into a ball, pressing her face into her knees and sobbing. The chains around her ankles held as firm as ever, glinting coldly in the dim red light. There was no one to see her break. That didn't make it easier.

"I'll be good, mother, father, please, please take me home. Don't leave me here. Mother, mother, please."

A small sound echoed faintly, the horrible noise of the door to the hallway closing. She thought she saw a shadow, near the doors. She flinched, trying to quiet herself. They did not like it when she spoke. But if anyone was watching, they didn't make a sound, didn't mock her, or scold, or threaten. She froze, waiting. Brave. She had to be brave again. She couldn't let them see her like this. Then, abruptly, the sound of the door again. Still she held herself, waiting for whatever would come next.

The thin red light did not so much as flicker.

* * *

I've got the next part coming soon (for realsies) but please let me know what you think!


	5. Aurora

Aurora: noun.  
1\. A natural light display in the sky, predominantly seen in the high latitude.  
2\. The Roman goddess of the dawn

* * *

Something warm and soft pressed down—no, surrounded- her. Kara Zor-El kept her eyes closed. Soon, she'd have to wake up, and the dream would end, and it was such a nice dream. She could almost feel the mattress under her, like her bed back home. But home was gone.

Home had been gone for so long. Just for a few more moments, though, she knew if she tried hard enough not to wake, she could pretend. She lay still, trying to memorize the gentle weight and feel of the blankets on her skin, not wanting to scare away the dream and wake up in her cold, dim room again. It had been so long since she'd had a good dream. Usually, if she dreamed at all, it was just as bad as being awake.

Finally Kara's body betrayed her, her eyes opening. She made a soft noise of surprise. This was not her prison in the Bad Place. It wasn't dark at all, and there was no thin red light, a cheap imitation of home that had still brought her slim comfort. For a moment, as she tried to sit up, her heart stuttered in fear, but then she realized she was still warm. The thing under her wasn't like a mattress, it was a mattress, not a thin pad on the floor, not a hard metal table.

Golden colored light spilled through a window with a broken mesh covering, warm on her face. She shifted, pulling the soft thing—a blanket, she had a blanket, she had two blankets—closer. Slowly, she remembered. The man who had hurt her before had come back, and his face had been different—sad and angry and regretful, and he'd opened the door and opened the chains and spoken her language with a voice that broke on the words. He'd brought her to a woman, El-liza. Her name was in the wrong order, but all the things on this world were in the wrong order, she knew that much from listening to words she didn't understand. And El-Liza, who had her family's name and spoke her language a little better than the first man, had brought her here.

She wanted to stay in that warmth forever, but carefully she slid off the bed. There was no shock of cold cement under her bare feet, just a soft rug, and sun-warmed wood. Standing in that puddle of heat and light, she shivered, her feet and hands tingling. She was reluctant to step away, but she did, slowly.

The open closet door held garments very like those she had worn back home, or her mother had, but in so many different colors, not just the whites and blues and blacks she was used to seeing. One thin, pale hand reached out to touch one of the robes that was the same soft yellow of the sunlight on the windowsill. Kara drew back with a squeak, then scrambled to pull the dress off the hook and hug it to her face. It was the softest thing she could remember touching, and smelled clean and vaguely flowery.

She wriggled into it quickly, shedding the ratty suit she hadn't taken off for days before the rescue.

The rescue.

She was _free_. It hit her again, enveloped her like an embrace. She was _free_.

A soft knock at the door drew Kara's attention, and a woman's voice, stuttering out words clearly unfamiliar to her, but so familiar to Kara's ears it hurt.  
"Kara? Up are you? Are you up? I'm breakfast making-er-making breakfast."

Kara felt her stomach growl as much as she heard it, a horribly familiar sensation. Caution to the wind, she skittered to the door faster than she'd expected her legs to carry her. She almost ran into Eliza, still standing in the hall, but stopped herself.

"Good morning," Eliza said, and she waited.

"Good morning," Kara repeated the greeting in English. She had looked at the books that night, straining to see them by moonlight. This language was harder than some she had learned bits and pieces of when traveling with her father, or listening while her mother worked, but she connected the bits and pieces she had heard and seen in the Dark Place with what she could hear and see now. She had always been good at languages. She took the hand Eliza offered her, letting her lead the way downstairs.

"Clark is coming soon," Eliza said as she pointed Kara to sit in a chair. Kara did not sit, but Eliza didn't Order her to. "I mean...Kal?"

"Soon?" Kara beamed. Her baby cousin really was ok. She had been so afraid he was in a cold, dark room like she'd been, all those months.

"Yes, soon," Eliza nodded, getting out bowls and mixing things together. Cinnamon , Kara named one smell in her head. Like the air at Star Haven. Her father had let her tag along on his last trip there. There had been so many bright colors, the sunlight there hadn't been red like home or golden like here, and she'd held tight to his hand to avoid being swept up in the crowds. She had been too awed to be afraid, and too certain her father would keep her safe.

She reached up a hand to swipe the tears from her eyes before anyone could see. She was supposed to be brave. A hand rested on her shoulder, not a painful grip, but like her mother's touch. Her auntie's. Eliza met her eyes. Kara didn't look down.

"It's alright, little one. It's alright, Kara. Here. Eat." She offered a bowl that steamed faintly, and Kara took it in both hands. It looked like food from before, from the Dark Rooms, but only at a glance. This grain cereal-not wheat, she thought, maybe oat- was hot, and swirled with cinnamon and milk. She ate as quickly as she could.

"Careful, don't burn your-" Eliza started, and shook her head. "I forgot."

"Mom?" Alex clattered down the stairs. "Oh! Kara. Good morning."

"Good morning," Kara repeated again, and held out her still half-full bowl. She wasn't sure how much food there was, and Alex would need some too. It was good, but she could manage a day or so on what she'd eaten yesterday and already this morning, she thought. Eliza took the bowl, added another spoonful of the porridge, and handed it back as Alex filled a different bowl and sat at the table, digging through papers until she found one that Kara could see was covered in small drawings.

"Do you want the funnies next?" she asked. Kara blinked, nearly dropping her bowl.

"Funnies?" she asked. That was paper, not a creature. Her uncle had had many-no, what was the word, she had seen it in one of the books-Dog. That was it. _Fun_ was Dog here. D is for.

"The comics. Um, here." Alex showed her the paper. "Stories, but mostly pictures. Every day, the people who make them tell more story, or sometimes it's just one."

Kara brightened. She liked stories. The drawings were all very different and silly, and she couldn't understand all of the writing, but there wasn't much. There was one of a fat cat, holding a toy bear close.

Suddenly, she flinched, her ears aching. Again she heard the rhythmic, rushing noise she still couldn't place, but this time she heard something else, too. Footsteps. The crunching of the gravel outside, the squeak of the porch. She covered her ears. Someone was coming.

"Kara? What is it?" Eliza started towards her, and stopped as someone knocked at the door. She nodded to Alex. "Alex, Kara, upstairs. If it's safe I'll call for you."

Alex grabbed Kara by the wrist and tugged her towards the stairs, though Kara realized belatedly she'd understood the instructions. The sun-bright bedroom still felt so safe, but Kara trembled despite the warmth. After a moment, Eliza's voice reached her ears.

"Come down, girls, it's alright."

Kara looked to Alex, who nodded. "If it wasn't, mom would have called me Xandra." The other girl's confidence put Kara at ease,and she followed her back down the stairs, staying as close as she could. In the little room full of couches and soft chairs stood Eliza, and a man with dark hair. Kara's eyes widened. "Uncle Jor-El?" she whispered, inching closer, then freezing. No. He looked like her uncle, a little, in the nose, the eyes, but he was younger, and his shoulders were different. His smile looked like aunt Lara's.

"Hello," he said in Kryptonian that was better than Eliza's, but still clumsy. "I am Kal-El, called Clark. You are from Krypton?"

She frowned. "Kal-El is smaller than me. How are you him?" She tried to say it in the human language as well, fumbling a little with the limited vocabulary.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I landed here…" he paused. "Very small. Many years ago. When you?"

She frowned. "Not sure." She held up two fingers, then three, then wavered back to two, three again. "My pod. Must have been stuck. Who took care? I was supposed-"

He took out a picture, one of himself and two humans, older than any humans she'd seen, with graying hair.

"They not hurt you?" she said in halting human-speak.

"No. They took care of me. They found me and raised me. When I was… a little older than you are now, I started learning about where I came from. My...father left some things. That's how I learned the language. Not very well."

"No," she said, reaching out to touch his hand. "Well enough." It felt so good, to hear her language again, first from her rescuers, now from...Kal-El. She hadn't failed him. He'd been safe. He'd been safe.

"Oh, don't-don't cry," he said slipping into English as he embraced her. She clung to him, sniffling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should have found you, I should have protected you. I'm sorry, _sejehb_ ."

"Kara," she said, though hearing the familial term warmed her as much as the hot food and sunlight had. No one had ever called her cousin before. "My name is Kara."

"Kara," he repeated, smiling.

Finally, he turned to look at Eliza, Kara still hugging him. "What do we do now? Ma and Pa are getting older...and I can't just show up with a twelve year old, I don't know anything about kids, I -" his voice rose a little in panic, and Kara noticed. She flinched a little. Alex offered a comforting hand, and Kara took it with one of hers, the other still gripping her cousin's shirt.

Eliza nodded. "We'll figure something out. She's welcome to stay here."

"It should be her choice," Alex piped up. Kara blinked. She was used to people talking about her, deciding things for her. Even back home, Before, her parents had told her their plan. She had not been given a choice, only instructions.

"Kara?" Eliza asked. "What do you want? We could find a way for you to stay with the Kents, the people who raised Clark, or with Clark, or you can stay here with me and Alex."

Kara released her grip on Kal-El so she could look at him, then study Alex and Eliza, the photo still on the table. She thought of the unknown. She thought of the closet upstairs with the row or warm, soft clothes, the washroom that smelled like flowers, the soft bed in the golden sunshine, this woman holding her close in comfort, the too-full bowl of cooling breakfast.

She swallowed. "If stay-I still see Kal-El-Clark?" she asked.

"Of course. I'll visit when I can. I live far, but I'll visit," he confirmed.

"Dr. Danvers, will she be safe here?" Clark asked, his voice soft, but not soft enough that Kara couldn't hear.

"She will be," Eliza said, resolute. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Kara."

"Me either," Alex put in, squeezing Kara's hand gently.

Kara blinked hard, her vision blurring a little, as she realized she believed them. "I-want to stay."

"Welcome to the family," Eliza said, gathering in everyone for a hug. "And finish your oatmeal."

* * *

please love me-comments are amazing also hit me up on tumblr because this isn't the end of this au I have like four more chapters planned (it turns out there are lots of nifty space related words that start with A)


End file.
